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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703621">Swan out of Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktwinchesterhale/pseuds/Saydkw'>Saydkw (ktwinchesterhale)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>? - Freeform, Alpha Arthur Morgan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur kicks ass, Boys in Skirts, Canon-Typical Violence, Castration, Crossdressing, Intersex, M/M, Omega John Marston, Other, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Protective Arthur, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unrequited Crush, circa late 1880's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:53:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktwinchesterhale/pseuds/Saydkw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John thought if he was as pretty as Mary-fuckin- Gillis maybe Arthur would have picked him. But then again he was nothing like an omega should be.</p><p>or at sixteen John's crush on Arthur is obvious to everyone but Arthur. This causes some misunderstandings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Marston/Arthur Morgan, Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1887</p><p> </p><p>John knew his upbringing was unconventional, to say the least. He was ignorant of many things he should know. Being in Orphan had insured such. Of course, someone should’ve fucking told him it was completely normal for one such as himself to wake up with blood between their legs at some point during their formative teenage years. </p><p>But that had been one of the things the mainly alpha group had neglected to mention.</p><p>It wasn’t too many years after he joined the gang that it happened. He was a bit older than fourteen and now had his own tent. It was small but Dutch had Deemed it a necessary expense when he’d become a teenager.</p><p>The reduced size of his tent was a problem. In the aftermath of his cry, Dutch Hosea, Arthur, and Susan had come running with guns drawn. </p><p> As soon as Arthur realized there was no threat in the tent he started laughing. John’s cheeks burned ‘he was dying and Arthur thought it was fucking funny. As the man he looked up to shook his head and walked off he patted Hosea and Susan’s shoulder. “This is your territory.”</p><p>John's lungs burned as he continued to breathe hard. “What’s so funny? Am I gonna die?”</p><p>    Hosea shook his head as he came over to sit on a non-ruined part of the cot. “Everyone’s gonna die someday. We all flirt with death more than most. But this- you’ll be fine. It's normal.”</p><p>    “It ain’t <em> normal </em> waking up in a pool of your own blood.” John huffed. </p><p>    “It is for women and omegas.” Ms. Grimshaw said motioning for him to move out-the-way. John stood from the bed and looked back at the mess before she began stripping it of the linens.</p><p>    “Are you sayin’ I’m an omega?”</p><p>    Hosea nodded. “It appears that way.”</p><p>    “In the future, I’ll expect your help with the washin’ when an accident occurs, Mr. Marston.” Susan gathered the sheets in her arms being mindful of the blood. </p><p>  “You mean this will keep happening!”</p><p>“Unless you plan on staying pregnant all the time.  This will happen for a week once a month.”</p><p>“You're pulling my leg! And I ain’t letting no alpha touch me!”</p><p>Hosea just shrugged “you’ll think differently when your heats come in a few years.”</p><p>“I’d rather die!”</p><p> </p><p>1889</p><p> </p><p>  John would shoot someone if it meant he could get some relief from his heat. Specifically, he was thinking about shootin’ Mary fuckin’ Gillis. Not that that would make Arthur want him in her stead. Because she was <em> perfect.  </em></p><p>     She was a gorgeous omega, who was the epitome of domesticity, grace, and good breeding-not a rabid raccoon always covered in filth- as she’d so kindly pointed out once.</p><p>Arthur had laughed. But John had seen the smile on her lips. She’d meant it to sting. </p><p>She wouldn't have bothered him if she’d just been a fling and never come around again. But Arthur was <em> courting </em> her. </p><p>And She was perfect. The drop he felt in his stomach when she was mentioned or he saw her and Arthur together was nothing but jealousy, plain, and simple. </p><p>John knew it was stupid but he’d thought after he had gotten his bleeds he and Arthur would be a sure thing. After all, no omega was going to pull Arthur from wild living.</p><p>At least he’d thought that until she came along. And was he ever smitten. Arthur “work-horse” Morgan was laughing and playing in the water with Mary laughing too.</p><p>John snarled his nose. Even, in a false heat, Jon wanted to be in her place. </p><p>“Quite your staring. You’re glaring holes into her head.”</p><p>“I am not.” Jon turned away and handed Miss Grimshaw the next sheet from the basket. “I’m just wondering is all.”</p><p>“Not planning something malicious I hope.”</p><p>“No...just...do you think any alpha will ever be that giddy with me?”</p><p>    “Someday, you’re still young yet. You’re not even heated yet. You’ll have plenty of time to flirt when you're a bit older.”</p><p>    “Not much older, I’ve been having false-heats.”</p><p>    Miss Grimshaw paused and turned. She looked him up and down. “Have you?”</p><p>    He nodded. “All the stuff you an’ Hosea warned me ‘bout.”</p><p>    “Even the-”</p><p>    “Yep,” John said popping the p.”’s the worst part.”</p><p>    “Well, I suppose next time we run into town for supplies I could have Hosea go with you to get things you need to keep from gettin’ pregnant.”</p><p>    John shrugged and stooped to pick up more clothespins. “Won’t matter, no alpha’s gonna want me.”</p><p>     Susan stopped and turned to him. “And why on earth do you think that?”</p><p>    “Mary said I had all the beauty and grace of a rabid raccoon, Arthur agreed.”</p><p>    “You are a bit scruffy lookin’, but if you were cleaned up a bit, and minded your manors you’d look no different than the omegas in Mary’s crowd.”</p><p>    John snorted. “I doubt that.”</p><p>    “Well, either way, you’ll need you to have some new clothes. We can’t have you dressing in trousers anymore, ‘s not decent.”</p><p>“I have to wear a skirt!”</p><p>“At least when we’re passing through towns, we can’t have you drawin’ too much attention now can we.”</p><p>John wrinkled his nose and continued working. He glanced back over at Arthur and Mary by the creek. Mary had her back against the tree with Arthur pinning her there languidly kissing her.</p><p>John really wished he could just shoot her.</p><p> </p><p>John was leaned up against one of the trees lining the river bank with a book. </p><p>“Heard you’re close to heating.”</p><p>“Hosea, you’ve already given me this talk once before. Please don’t make me go through it again.”</p><p>“Nope, this is a different talk.” He seated himself down next to the younger man with a grunt. “Susan tells me you’re feelin a bit like an ugly duckling.”</p><p>“A rabid raccoon is what I was called.”</p><p>“No, you're definitely more of a duckling.”</p><p>John shot Hosea a look. “If this is meant to make me feel better. You’re not.”</p><p>“It’s a book, Jon. A duckling spends his whole life feel in’ different than the others. Out of sorts and ugly. But he grows up and discovers there's a reason for that- he wasn’t a duckling but a Gosselin, the whole time.”</p><p>“And I’m this duck somehow?”</p><p>“Hm. When he grew up all the ducklings that made him feel different were jealous of his beauty.”</p><p>    “Are you saying I’ll magically become beautiful after I start heating?”</p><p>    “No John, I’m saying you <em> are </em>beautiful, I’m just not sure how to get you to see that. Everyone’s unsure of themself in someway at your age.”</p><p>Johns glanced towards where Arthur, Dutch, and the current crop of enforcers were playing poker.</p><p>Hosea hummed. “It ain’t good to measure yourself to the value of others.”</p><p>“How beautiful can you be if Alphas aren’t interested in you?”</p><p>Hosea patted his leg. “I’ll see about finding a way to make you feel better bout yourself.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>    The way he decided to make John realize he was in fact an attractive omega of course involved a scam. John was skeptical it would work.</p><p>    The plan was for Dutch John and Arthur to cause a scene in the middle of the road on two wagons to block the road, and somehow involve the people that came along. Thus distracting them while the rest of the gang pinched their wagons and coaches from behind.  </p><p>  But for some inexplicable reason, Hosea had gotten it into his head that John needed to be dressed like a respectable omega that looked like daddy would have to defend his honor.  Which was how they ended up in a tailor shop, with John bored out of his mind while getting a fucking dress pinned.</p><p>Hosea Ms. Grimshaw and the new omega Karen had joined him. He tried his best but he yelped every time a needle pricked him.</p><p>“If you’d quick squirming you wouldn’t be gettin’ poked.” The tailor said around the pins held in her teeth. </p><p>John huffed and blew his hair from his eyes. He wasn’t <em> allowed </em>to move his hand after all. Ms. Grimshaw clicked her teeth and scolded him. “You’re hairs next. A good barber will do wonders for you.”</p><p>“You ain’t cuttin’ my hair.”</p><p>“You are not.” Hosea corrected without looking up. </p><p>“Fine. You’re not cuttin’ my hair.”</p><p>“We’re not cutting it John they’ll trim it down and make you look less like a wild man.”</p><p>Karen came over a few seconds later holding what looked like a doily “What about this?” </p><p>“No, fucking way, I ain’t- I’m not a girl!”</p><p>“Of course, you’re not but, this’ll really sell the whole debutant thing. Since you refuse to wear the skirt.”</p><p>“Miss Jones is right, it's the lace or the skirt.”</p><p>John wrinkled his nose. The false skirt was bad enough, but at least it let him ride. “Fine, but I’ll end up ruining it.”</p><p>“It’s last for a while, ‘sides it's only for special occasions, we got others being made.”</p><p>“What for!” John growled.</p><p>“You can’t wear something that nice everyday John. It gets ruined.”</p><p>John huffed and blew more hair from his eyes. Obviously they were expecting him to dress in frilly tops and slit riding pants full time now. Like a real fucking omega. </p><p>Every time he tried to look in the looking glass Ms. Grimshaw would grab his face and force him to look forwards. </p><p>“Mr. Marston remain still.”</p><p>Karen wandered off and returned about the time his pants were finished being pinned. She had several fabrics in her hand. “Which of these do you like?”</p><p>John shrugged. “I like the plaid or the checker I guess.” </p><p>Hosea and Karen both laughed. “Of course you do.”</p><p>“What about the gray?”</p><p>John shrugged. “It’s plain.”</p><p>“It’s silk, John.” Ms. Grimshaw huffed. </p><p>“Why would I care?”</p><p>Karen rolled her eyes. “It’s a good fabric.”</p><p>“So?- Oww!” John jumped as the tailor shot him a glare.</p><p>Karen rolled her eyes and walked away before returning a few moments later with another patterned blue bolt of fabric. “Is this any more to your taste?”</p><p>“I mean it's pretty. Just weird that it has birds on it.”</p><p>Karen put her hand on her hips. “At least we’re getting somewhere.”</p><p>“I think those swans would add a touch of grace, to your rough demeanor.”</p><p>Hosea closed his book loudly. “Swans you say.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes. </p><p>“I think that would make a nice cotton work shirt don’t you?” Hosea’s pale eyes twinkled.</p><p>John blew at more hair. “You’re gonna make me wear it no matter what I say.”</p><p>Hosea grinned. “Of course I am.” He turned to the tailor. “Can we get this in a simple daywear style?”</p><p> </p><p>After a few hours of pinning and measuring, the tailor and her seamstresses promised to have the things ready by the next afternoon. In the meantime, they went to the barber in the local hotel. Next door was the saloon, where John could see Arthur and Dutch playing some poker. Walking past the window, he met Arthur’s eye. </p><p>The older man smirked and shot him a wink as he walked by. As much as John wished he didn’t react, he felt his face heat up and his heart race.</p><p>The action caused the other men at the table to turn to John, giving Arthur the opportunity to pull a card from his sleeve. John ducked his head and continued walking into the barber’s. </p><p>Hosea was waiting for him. With a man with much too little hair for a barber. “Jesus boy have you ever heard of a comb? We'll be lucky if we don’t have to chop off the whole lot.”</p><p>John stepped back. “You aren’t chopping my hair off!”</p><p>Hosea gave the barber a look. “John’s a bit particular here. We’re confident his hair just needs a trim. He’d like to keep it as long as possible.”</p><p>The barber scoffed and motioned to the chair as if to beacon him forward. “His hair’s in such a state I’ll be able to take several inches and it will end up looking longer just because it's not tattered.”</p><p>    “It’ll be longer?”  </p><p>    “Yes, if not simply healthier looking. Why have you let it get in such a wreck, boy?”</p><p>    John looked to his feet. “‘S the only thing about me that remotely looks like a real omega.”</p><p>    The barber patted the chair. “And I’ll make it look even better?”</p><p>    John still didn’t trust the man that said he’d chop off his hair but Hosea was nodding at him encouragingly. Reluctantly he stepped forward and took the seat. </p><p>    He was ready to get his clothes and get out of this town. It was too big and crowded for him. Once again, in this day of endless hell, Marston found himself forced to sit completely still. He dared not move for fear he’d lose more hair.</p><p> Once the barber was done Hosea wouldn’t let him turn John around to a mirror. Which made him immediately think his hair had been removed. He reached for his locks only to find them intact and...silky. </p><p>  It was a startling contrast and John couldn’t help but keep touching it.</p><p> His stroking was interrupted by Hosea dropping his hat onto his head and steering him back towards the saloon for dinner.</p><p> Arthur was at the bar buying a round for the fellas he’d been playing poker with. A sure-fire sign he’d cleaned them out. John slithered out from Hosea’s arm and made his way over to the bar. Before he could snag one of the whiskey shots, Arthur grabbed his hand and put a beer in it. </p><p>“You ain’t gettin’ a hard liquor just yet, kid.” </p><p>John huffed and took the beer. “I ain’t a kid anymore. I’ve been having false heats.”</p><p>Arthur smirked and cocked his head, “That so...well once you have a real heat you can drink liquor like an adult, and until then, you ain't getting it on my dime.”</p><p>“I’m not a kid,” John muttered into his beer as Arthur continued his conversation with the men.</p><p> </p><p>   Dinner was uneventful. Some form of mystery meat -John reckoned a vermin- potatoes and beans with lard and greens. Just as Arthur and Dutch had found a new round of drunkards to hustle, Ms. Grimshaw herded him up the stairs to his room. </p><p> He hated when they stayed in hotels. In camp, no one corralled him into his tent at night-anymore. And in camp, he certainly didn’t have to share his tent with others. Hotels were a different sort altogether; any omegas from camp were bunked in the same room. Ms. Grimshaw was like a warden. She’d pull her own bed in front of the door and slide her shotgun beneath the bed. </p><p>John kicked off his boots and stripped down to his long underwear before crawling into his bed. He supposed most normal people weren’t wishing to be in a tent at the end of November in the Jefferson territory. John had long except normal was not a life he’d be able to have. Not that he was even sure he wanted it.</p><p> </p><p>The following morning the air was crisp with a cutting wind from the north. John was less than excited for the day, for one thing, his clothes wouldn’t be ready until the afternoon. If it wasn’t for Mrs. Grimshaw running about and fussing at him to get up. He would just sleep until then. But she would not have him be a lay-a-bout. No that was Uncle’s job and he was back in camp with the others setting up camp. </p><p>“Mr. Marston if you don’t get out of that bed and help us get supplies I’ll beat you like a rug.”</p><p>Begrudgingly, John rose from bed and started about putting on his various layers of clothing. Through the small dirty window of their room, he could see the camp supply wagon had already arrived with the two draft geldings Zeus and Hank-and, of course, Uncle. </p><p>Uncle was in the driver seat with his hand on his back talking to Arthur. Arthur in turn had his arms crossed with a look of disapproval. No doubt Uncle’s <em> lumbago </em>was acting up again. John smiled to himself. Some things would never change. </p><p>Mr. Pearson was also looking rather sour at the fact they were down a pair of hands. But then again he hadn’t been with them long enough to realize his mistake was counting Uncle in the first place. George Burdette and Odle Coots were carrying a barrel between them from the Dry Goods Store. Bessie wasn’t far behind them with a crate. </p><p>John threw on his clothes and boots. He snatched Hosea’s hat from the bedpost and dashed out of the room. </p><p>Downstairs, Hosea and Dutch were eating and discussing whatever it was they talked about in hushed voices all the time. </p><p>John paid them no mind and went running from the inn. In his haste tripped in front of two men walking on the porch. Much to his surprise, however, he didn’t hit the ground. John looked up just in time to see the younger of the two men return him to an upright position. </p><p>“My apologies.” He said, removing his hands from John's person.</p><p>John flushed with embarrassment. It was unfortunate he was a clutz and unfortunate to have a face such as his because the young man was quite handsome. Not as handsome as Arthur, of course. The older man was smirking as if he knew why John was flustered. </p><p>“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that fell...Thank you for, you know-”</p><p>“Oh it was my pleasure” John’s head snapped up. “I mean! Not pleasure just, well, it's not everyday one gets to play hero to a damsel in distress.”</p><p>He was about to protest being called such. </p><p>“Mr. Marston! I better not have just seen you running through that lobby!” </p><p>“Sorry, Ms. Grimshaw.” </p><p>The older omega walked out onto the porch only to find the subject of her anger to have company. </p><p>The older man finally spoke in a refined tone. “Don’t give your charge too much trouble ma’am. After all, it was my cane he tripped over. We’re lucky my brick of a nephew was here to keep from damaging that face of his.”</p><p>Ms. Grimshaw narrowed her eyes at John. “How unfortunate that John, here, doesn’t always have someone to save him when he fails to heed my words.”</p><p>John looked up from the ground to notice the young man was still smiling at him. It was strange. </p><p>“Oh! Where are my manors? I’m Evan Sharp and this is my Uncle, Nolton Sharp. My Uncle here owns the local silver mine and I’ve just graduated from the University of Virginia and have taken over as the local banker.”</p><p>Why anyone would freely advertise they were such a man, John did not know. But from his tone, it was clearly supposed to impress him.</p><p>“John Marston.” He hated how scratchy his voice sounded. </p><p>“I am pleased to have met you, Mr. Marston.”</p><p>John wrinkled his nose. “John, only Mrs. Grimshaw calls me <em> Mr. Marston </em> and it makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”</p><p>Nolton spoke up. “I suspect we’ll be seeing you around then, John.”</p><p>Then the two men did the damnedest thing they tipped their hats at him. </p><p> </p><p>The two men carried on their way. Evan turned back around and smiled at him almost running into a wooden post. John turned to Mrs. Grimshaw expecting to get cuffed in the back of the head for running, but she...she almost seemed pleased. Not that he knew her to be capable of the emotion. </p><p>He looked to the window to see that Hosea and Dutch had been watching the whole incident. Dutch had that funny twinkle in his eye and Hosea was grinning at him. Their expressions worried him. He turned away and headed across the street towards the rest of the group. </p><p>Arthur had a sack of flour over his shoulder and a cigarette hanging from his lips. “You’re losing your touch, Marston -didn’t even nick his pocket watch. Must be gettin’ close to a real heat if you’re lolly-gagging with a bourgeois alpha like that.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Arthur.” John snapped and headed for the inner store. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Miss Grimshaw, Karen, and Mr. Pearson returned with the loaded-up supply wagon around noon. Uncle stuck around under the guise of finding intel and tips. He did always manage to find something to suggest; John wondered how much more successful he’d be if he searched in places other than the local saloon. </p><p>It was something he let himself indulge in. He found imagining different possibilities was the only way to keep sane while having to endure such tasks as having his hair brushed and braided.</p><p>Hosea had matched him back up to his room and set him down on a stool with his back to the mirror. He wasn’t quite sure why they felt it necessary to keep him from seeing how he looked. It didn’t take Hosea too long to braid John’s hair to suit him. Just as he was tying it off Odle knocked on the door. </p><p>“That tailor said for me to get these dresses to you. Not sure what fur, something so pretty’s wasted on Marston.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, thank you for your unnecessary opinion.” Hosea took the dresses through the door crack before shutting the door in the alpha male’s face. </p><p>Hosea placed the large parcels onto the nearest bed. “Let’s make sure these will work.”</p><p>One would have thought it was the older omega getting the new clothes for how excited he was. He carefully pulled off the lids of the boxes revealing the garments underneath. John’s curiosity got the better of him. He walked over to get a better look. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. </p><p>“Hosea, there’s no way I can wear that.”</p><p>“Of course, you can it was made specifically for you.”</p><p>John crossed his arms. “Odel was right. Not to mention we could have used that money for something more useful.”</p><p>Hosea pulled the bodice from the box. “Nonsense, it's perfect!. Look at it the yellow tartan with lace and the shoulders and puffed sleeves. Why it’s the perfect blend of masculine an’ feminine for an omega such as yourself.”</p><p>John couldn’t believe his ears; Hosea was the sensible one. “I won’t be able to pay the gang back for it. And I’ll… I’ll ruin it too quick.”</p><p>Hosea stared at John. “I don’t have any children of my own,- well, by blood anyway,” He motioned with his head towards him. “So let me spoil my beautiful adopted son, with overly expensive gifts.”</p><p>“I thought, I was Dutch an’ Anabelle’s adopted child.”</p><p>“Well, if that were true you’d be Arthur’s brother and your crush on him would be mighty inappropriate.”</p><p>John’s ears felt hot. “Is it that obvious?”</p><p>Hosea put down the tartan bodice and started to open another box, “Oh I think it’s pretty obvious, I’ve been hiding your guns when Mary comes to camp for the past year.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Arthur’s got the same problem you do. He doesn’t have a clue as to why omegas always like him. He thinks it’s all to do with his manors towards ‘em. </p><p>Now Mary on the other hand, well, she’s aware.”</p><p>“Do you think she’ll tell him?”</p><p>Hosea shook his head and held up the blue swan calico print bodice. “She’s too afraid. Try this one first.”</p><p> John pulled off the old work-shirt he was wearing. “I wouldn’t shoot her.”</p><p>Hosea handed him the bodice. “That’s not what she’d worried about. And you need to take off the long handles too.”</p><p>“It’s December! I’ll freeze.”</p><p>Hosea patted the top of another box. “You’ll be just fine. Every other omega is. We’ll get you layered up.” </p><p> </p><p>John huffed and stripped down. Even inside it was still chilly enough for all his flesh to goose pimple.</p><p>Hosea handed him various layers to put on before the blue bodice and finally a wool pair of riding pants. As much as John wanted to complain he found with all the layers he was rather warm.</p><p>“Let me look at you,” Hosea said, taking a step back. John tried to straighten his posture, knowing how often he’d been scolded on it.</p><p>Hosea’s face broke into a grin. “What a handsome young man you’ve become.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that.”</p><p>Hosea gestures to the mirror behind him. The mirror which John had been forbidden to look at for the past few days.</p><p>John turned. He could hardly recognize himself. He… well he looked like a proper omega with good breeding. Like the respectable omegas and women, Mary Gillis hung around in town.</p><p>“What do ya think?” John glanced up from the reflection of his own face to Hosea’s smirking one.</p><p>“I...I didn’t realize-“</p><p>“Now do you want to see how the other ones are?”</p><p> </p><p>In the tartan and lace bodice, John could scarcely believe it was him. And with  A silk riding skirt with a bow no less. He looked for the first time in his life he felt, Well John felt like a real omega. </p><p>John couldn’t stop staring at himself, he wondered if this was how Mary felt all the time. </p><p>“How about we head downstairs and see what the alphas think?”</p><p>The alphas. The thought of Arthur seeing him like this and the possibility he’d look at John with some Semblance of interest was intoxicating. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Hosea descended the stairs first, demonstrating the proper way to avoid stepping on his riding pants “Make sure to pull the fabric to the side.”</p><p>John copied his motion and followed him down the stairs. The gang’s alphas were pooled around a poker table. Dutch and Arthur sat with their backs to the windows, lest passer-by recognize them. George and Odell sat on either side of them. Javier stood as a lookout near the door; just in case the law came by or the two locals in the game caught on to being swindled. </p><p>Hosea cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, may I present to you the newest member of gentile society, Mr. John Marston.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes but stepped forward at Hosea’s prompting. His eyes landed on Dutch who was smirking around his cigar. The squeak of chairs pulled his attention away as the two local men and George stood up and removed their hats.</p><p>
  <em> The fuck? </em>
</p><p>Arthur who was aware of the plan had yet to look up. John itched for him to look at him like this, to make him realize he was an omega. Yet Arthur was preoccupied with shuffling and distributing the cards. “Burdette, you dumbass, it’s just Marston. Ain’t no reason to get all worked up.”</p><p>Arthur laid out the last of the cards. He set the deck on the table and finally looked at John. George flushed and sat back down.</p><p>John sucked wind through his teeth.</p><p>Critical blue-green eyes finally were on him. Arthur leaned back and pulled a cigarette to his lips. He continued to look at John with his typical subtle smirk. </p><p>“Well, fuck.” Arthur pulled some paper notes from his satchel and handed them to Dutch. “I was sure you’d gut a man that tried to make wear somethin’ like that. You look like a duck out of water.” </p><p>“You bet on me!” John snarled.</p><p>“Yeah, at least I didn’t bet on them getting you in the wash. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this clean. You look skinny, there’s probably a couple of pounds of dirt in that tub.”</p><p>John didn’t know what he expected from Arthur, but this wasn’t it. “Eat shit, Morgan.”</p><p>He turned and headed back up the stairs only to hear Arthur chuckling as he retreated and Hosea calling after him. </p><p>John slammed the door behind him and slid down the door to the floor. With no one else in the room, he let himself cry. </p><p>A minute later he heard creaking of the hallway floorboards. “John, can I come in?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Hosea, I just need a minute.”</p><p>“I know you well enough to know you’re upset. I know that ain’t the reaction you wanted from Arthur and the boys but-”</p><p>“But nothin’, I ain’t your ugly duckling turned swan, I’m just an ugly duck.”</p><p>Hosea said nothing in response and after a moment the creaking floorboards marked his return downstairs. </p><p> </p><p>John knew Hosea would be back to try again. But right now he didn’t want to hear it. It was his one chance to get Arthur to like him and it had gone to shit.</p><p>John reached up and turned the lock of the door. He grabbed one of the blankets from the bed and slid open the window. It was still light out, but already it was freezing. But out on the porch, no one would bother him. Or so he thought.</p><p>A window slid open around the corner beyond his view. It was followed by the sound of Spurs clinking against the wooden planks.</p><p>“You’re gonna catch your death out here.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Arthur.”</p><p>A match struck. Arthur spoke through his teeth as they clenched his cigarette. “Can’t do that. Hosea chewed me out for being too rough with you.”</p><p>John rested his chin on his knees. “Just 'cause I’m an omega don’t mean I can’t handle myself.”</p><p>“That ain’t what I’m sayin’, I’ve seen you shoot a man dead, you ride just and hustle poker just as well as any of us. I know you can handle yourself.”</p><p>“And all those things are the same reason you and the others forget I’m an omega.”</p><p>“Son Of a-you’re so damn stubborn would you just let me apologize before you go accusing me of more shit.”</p><p>“So far it ain’t much of an apology.”</p><p>Arthur sighed and dropped down to sit next to the omega, before pulling out his journal. John could hear the pages turning but he refused to give in to curiosity and look at the man.</p><p>Finally, Arthur must have found what he was looking for.  He rasped his knuckles against the page. </p><p>“Here,” he held the book out for John. “Hosea, said you’ve been out of sorts cause you don’t feel handsome. I ain’t good with talking about things but, well.” </p><p>Arthur raised the book a little to entice John. As much as John wanted to be annoyed it was such a rare opportunity for Arthur to let anyone near his journal, he couldn’t resist.</p><p>“May 17th, 1887,</p><p>Coach job went off without a hitch. I seem to be growing more paranoid. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched as I rode back to camp. I took a detour through the hills just to be safe. </p><p>One can’t be too careful in my line of work, but my little trip did put me back to camp well after midnight. </p><p>Then this morning there was a scream like a wounded elk coming from Marston’s tent. Everyone rushed over. I was sure at that moment I was being followed. </p><p>Much to my relief, Marston got a surprise visit from Mother Nature. Needless to say, Hosea and Susan have taken him under their wing as a fellow omega. Hosea’s positively giddy.</p><p>I think Dutch is a bit disappointed though. Not with Marston-no never with his golden boy, but rather that Hosea and I were right. Boys don’t look like Marston and turn into Alphas.</p><p>On the subject of omegas, I’m thinking next time I’m in Carson City-“</p><p>“Okay that’s enough, go to the next dog-eared page.”</p><p>“What’s the matter Arthur don’t want me to know how many omegas you’ve had?” </p><p>Arthur smirked and took a drag from his smoke. “I’m afraid you’d find it surprisingly low.”</p><p>“I’ve seen the ledger logs, you can afford it.”</p><p>He shook his head. “I don’t pay for it. That’s something ain’t worth the effort if they don’t want to do it for the sake of doing it.”</p><p>John really wanted to tell him that he wanted to do him for the sake of doing him. But he was sure that wouldn’t end well. Instead, John looked over at him. </p><p>Arthur reached over and tapped at the pages. “Don’t give me that look.”</p><p>“August 8th, 1889,</p><p>Things with Colm’s crew are getting tense. You can feel how agitated everyone in camp is. I want to make things easier, but I’m not smart enough to do that. So far all I’ve found that helps is to do as many chores as I can and keep fresh game coming. Full bellies and one less thing to worry about seems to help.</p><p>Of course, that still isn’t a solution to the Townsend problem. If he makes any more remarks about Marston. I’m not sure I can keep my fist from his jaw.”</p><p>John paused. “He died just a few weeks after this. No one ever really told me what happened.”</p><p>Arthur kept his lips pressed firmly together and continued to look out over the town. </p><p>“Arthur, what happened?”</p><p>“You sure you want to know?”</p><p>“I didn’t like him, but yeah, you get all funny when he’s brought up.”</p><p>“He kept running his mouth about you.”</p><p>“I remember. He always made comments about my hair, face, and just how improper I am.”</p><p>“Wasn’t anything proper about his behavior either. He kept making comments when you weren’t around and they were more descriptive. A few nights after I wrote he… well we all were a little drunk. You were bleeding so you went to bed early. Townsend started saying he’d like to have you before you started heating so there’d be no way you’d get pregnant.</p><p>I told him to stop talking about you like that. He said somethings and then headed off towards your tent. I lost it, knew what he was about to try, and well. I knocked him to the ground and jammed my knife in his balls.”</p><p>For some reason, Arthur looked ashamed. John had no idea why. He’d had protected him.</p><p>“I didn’t think you could die from a lack of balls.”</p><p>Arthur flicked his butt from the balcony. “Sepsis.”</p><p>John turned back to the journal. “Some people aren’t worth the dirt their boots collect. Townsend is one of them. Unfortunately, there are more like him, the kind of man that sees a fine omega and loses view of them as a human. Even then I don’t enjoy fighting such men. But if Marston keeps getting prettier I’m sure he’ll end up getting me killed in such a fight.”</p><p>John stopped reading. “You … you think I’m pretty.”</p><p>Arthur scoffed. “Everyone but you knows it. George and Javier were damn close to asking to court you downstairs. And I’m sure that man from the bank was too.”</p><p>John flushed. </p><p>“Dutch has known it too. He’s been trying to come up with a way to use it for the past year. Just none of us thought you'd easily get dolled up.”</p><p>“That why you bet on me?”</p><p>Arthur sighed. “Look I know I upset you, but I thought I’d meet my maker before I saw you in a skirt.”</p><p>John smiled. “I ain’t, it's a false skirt.” John made a bit of a show of it by putting a leg on either side of the rail.</p><p>Arthur laughed. “I knew it. Dutch owes me money.”</p><p>“Sounds like he found his first score, he paid for it all.”</p><p>“That sneaky son of a bitch.”</p><p>John laughed. </p><p>Arthur just stared at him. “I’m sorry. I suppose I still see you as Lil’ Johnny Marston. Might take a while for me to see you as Mr. Marston. Though you keep dressing like that and I’m sure it won’t take long for everyone to forget you were a gangly kid just a few years ago.”</p><p>They sat there in silence as the sun started setting. </p><p>“Do you think, I could-” John stopped himself before something stupid came out.</p><p>“You could what?”</p><p>“You’ll make fun of me.”</p><p>“I promise I won’t.”</p><p>“Do you think I could pass as an omega from Mary’s crowd?”</p><p>Arthur chuckled.</p><p>“You promised!”</p><p>“I ain’t making fun of you. I just- ah, well- every time someone says something to Mary’s and her type they just walk away like a response is beneath them. I can’t imagine you doing that, you’d disembowel a man if he said something unsavory to you. For what Hosea is concocting you’ll pass just fine.”</p><p>Arthur groaned. “If everything's good between us, I’m gonna head back to camp.”</p><p>John scrambled to his feet, “Can I come?”</p><p>“Why? You don’t want to stay in a hotel with a wood stove?”</p><p>John shook his head. “I like it better at camp.”</p><p>The alpha shook his head. “You are a strange one, Marston.” He motioned towards the window of his room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur helped John pack up his new clothes and carry them downstairs. Which naturally resulted in an argument the whole way down. “At least let me carry something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re almost there and it wouldn’t look proper if I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John huffed followed after him as he walked from the hotel to the wagon they had come in on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John!” John turned around to see the young man he’d met earlier that day leaving the bank. John tried to remember his name as he hurried over to him. “Mr. Sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please call me, Evan.” He said, taking off his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur snorted. Evan didn’t seem to take too kindly to Arthur’s presence. “Oh, pardon me I didn’t realize you were attending to business. I didn’t catch your name sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur smirked and leaned against the wagon tipping his hat. “Arthur Matthews.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glanced at Arthur. He was up to something, no one in the gang changed their name unless they were up to something. About that time Dutch and Hosea were leaving the hotel and headed to the saloon. “Mr. Marston, Sir,” Arthur said, nodding to Dutch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch paused and changed his course. “Arthur, ‘you looking after my boy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir, just about to get him back home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wasn’t sure what the scam was but he knew the ques that one was starting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan fell right into the situation; He turned to Dutch and held out his hand. “Evan Sharp, Mr. Marston. If it's not too forward- might I just say your son is exquisite and charming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s confused face caused Arthur to chuckle. John shot him a look, which was unnecessary as Hosea stepped forward and chuffed Arthur in the back of the head, knocking his hat off in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch smirked. “It’s not too forward at all, I could agree more. He’s grown into a fine young man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my understanding you are new in town, sir, I myself have only just returned after some years back east. I was just about to ask John here if he’d be interested in joining my uncle and me for dinner one night at Plata’s Creek.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch smirked. “We’d be delighted, son. It’ll give him the proper event he’s been needing to wear this new outfit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wanted to roll his eyes, something fierce, but he refrained. Arthur and Hosea weren’t helping with the way they were smirking at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan continued to discuss business with Dutch, much to John’s boredom, but it was all part of the con. He was posing as a businessman finally bringing his son and wife out west. He even claimed Arthur was his security foreman. Of course, Arthur was so painfully obviously a gunslinger, how else was Dutch to explain him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, snow started falling, giving John the opportunity to end the chatter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur drove the wagon with Hosea and John in the back. Boadicea was trotting along behind. Hosea was asleep or was at least pretending to be. John climbed into the driver’s bench next to Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was quiet for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder to check if Hosea was really asleep or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So uh, how do you feel about this Sharp fella?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He called me exquisite and charming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well apart from being a poor judge of character, I don’t find him too strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John punched Arthur’s arm. “He doesn’t even know me yet he seems so excited to see me. It’s like an overly dandy puppy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to be crass, but every alpha gets a bit stupid and childish around someone he wants to sleep with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t want-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit, Marston when he came over and saw me you could practically taste his jealousy, til Dutch made it seem like I was the help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wrinkled his nose. “He should be jealous, he ain’t much of an alpha.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure he is, he's just nothing like the alphas you’ve been around. He’s a gentleman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a gentleman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur chuckled. “I really ain’t. I just treat omegas with respect and don’t respect those that treat them as less.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just don’t seem like much of a man- what that sits at a desk all day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shook his head. “Most Os would be giddy with the idea that a rich young alpha like that had taken an interest in them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shrugged, “guess I’m just different than most omegas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll say.” He was quiet for a moment before he put the reins in one hand and grabbed at the blanket. “If you’re gonna sit up here you could at least share the blanket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pulled the blanket around both of their shoulders and John scooted closer to make it easier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems odd, snow this early.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur made a noise in his throat. “Not really, we might be in desert country, but we’re pretty high up too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be a bitch in the morning around camp at the rate it's coming down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have stayed at the hotel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like the city. I’d rather sleep on my bedroll anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d best bring your bedroll next to the fire tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty comfortable like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, all those layers you were talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John leaned over against Arthur. “I guess, you’re pretty warm too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you think so, I’m fucking freezing. Maybe I need to start wearing those skirts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John snorted. “You’d look mighty funny in skirts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty sure the others wouldn’t have such a positive reaction to it as they did with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t call that a positive reaction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Psh. You didn’t hear ‘em going on about how you looked after you stormed out. I wouldn’t be surprised Mr. Sharp didn’t have some competition for your hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright then, what type sort of alpha’s gonna sweep you off your feet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You. John wanted to say, but he knew that would get him nowhere. “Well, he’d have to be handsome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really insightful and cerebral requirements you’ve got there, Marston.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ass, I wasn’t finished just thinking. He’d have to be caring, loyal-“ John paused, “I’d want him to be more action than a man of words.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, that’s what you’ve got against, Mr. Sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’d want him to not be afraid of hard work or sleeping on the ground.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hummed. “Somehow he doesn’t strike me as a man that would fit that sort of description at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I also noticed you said he. What do you have against a female alpha?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John flushed. “Nothing it’s just-“ No He couldn’t phrase it like that. Trying to explain that he knew he’d prefer a man over a woman, couldn’t be explained in any way that wasn’t crude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur let out a chuckle. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Besides, you ain’t heatin' yet. You’ve got a while before you think about settling down and leaving the gang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M not gonna leave the gang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure you are. You’ve got a chance to settle down and have a family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already have a family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A spouse and kids, Marston. I know Hosea, Bess, Dutch an’ Annabel are like your parents, but it’s normal to settle down and leave them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pulled away letting cold air into their cocoon. “And you’re gonna leave with Mary?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I” Arthur sighed. “It’s complicated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it ain’t you either have to leave with her or stay with us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, okay!” Arthur growled. “Not that’s it any of your fucking business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John moved to the back of the wagon taking his blanket with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the ride back was cold and quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they reached camp several inches of snow were on the ground. John barely waited for the cart to stop before bailing out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really know how to piss that boy off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hosea don’t start,” Arthur said around a cigarette he was lighting. “I’ve already made nice with him once this evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ve pissed him off twice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what do you expect; you pried into his life, told him to settle down, then told him off when he did the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was my intention. And don’t change the subject.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur grabbed the boxes which held John’s new clothes. “Yeah, yeah. Let him cool down a bit then I’ll beg for the golden boy’s forgiveness once again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John didn’t see Arthur until well into the night. Susan had helped him take off his new top layers, but he wasn’t taking off the wool ones underneath. He’d set up his bedroll and winter blankets by the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nights such as these, everyone would end up crowded around one fire or another. The lean-tos were pulled down and set up closer to the fire in a circle. The logs usually used for seating were placed between the gaps between the lean-tos to keep the snow from blowing over them while they slept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the others had already started moving their things into the shelters. Javier had already pilled in and was strumming his guitar. It was soothing, almost mesmerizing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nearly jumped out of his skin when a bedroll and blankets were dropped down next to him. “Fucks sake, Arthur, warn a man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur just smirked and headed into the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bastard.” John laid back against one of the logs and let himself enjoy the music and the crackle of the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how much later but a kick at his foot made his eyes snap open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They landed on Arthur with two bowls of stew in hand and a spoon dangling from his lips. He offered one to John before dropping down on the log that marked out the gap for a path away from the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was still pissed with him but he couldn’t pass up a hot meal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John about earlier on the wagon. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just well that’s a sore subject right now between me and Mary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John picked at his stew. “And how is it any different for me than you- and don’t you dare say cause I’m an O.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t been in this life that long. You can still get out. Me?” Arthur shook his head. “I’ve been doing this for twelve years now. It’s a hard habit to break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s a habit I can’t break either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shrugged and scraped up the last of his stew. “I don’t know I’ve heard omegas change when they have pups.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve heard the same about alphas after they mate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur set his dish aside and started pulling off his boots, “Maybe so, but I won’t know 'til Mary’s ready will I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wrapped his blanket back around his arms, not that he was cold, no he was rather comfortable. Yet he wanted the blanket as some small consolation that Arthur wasn’t his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his boots off the alpha moved down from the log to sit on his bedroll and brace his back against the log.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John just finished his meal as the others started filing in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marston, are you hot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” John looked up from where his gaze had fallen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like you’re sweating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” The funny thing was John didn’t feel that hot. He felt warm and comfortable even. “I guess maybe I should take off another layer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other men around the fire gave him strange looks, but John never really paid attention to them. He just took his blanket and retreated to his cold tent. And was it ever cold. The snow crunched the whole way there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only tent that remained occupied in weather such as this was Dutch’s tent since it had the woodstove. But with Dutch in at the hotel tonight Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and Anabel were all set up inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Removing more layers seemed like a stupid idea yet John stripped the cotton undershirt and another layer of trousers off. He folded them and laid them on top of the boxes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrapping the blanket back around himself, John moved from the tent back to the campfire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More were settling in under the lean-tos. Mr. Pearson was setting his things out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur leaned back against the log, his hat tipped downward covering his face. It was a sort of sick joke that Arthur had put his bedroll in the same shelter as him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was so Arthur could monitor who came into the lean-to circle. Arthur was protective like that. One of the many things John found so damn attractive about the man. He didn’t look up as John ducked into the lean-to and began tugging off his boots. Before crawling into his bedroll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled his blanket up to his nose and observed Arthur through his lashes. He wished it was just the two of them in the wilderness like it was on their last hunting trip together. But that was years before John had presented and before he’d had the desire to have Arthur as his mate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doubted he’d be allowed alone time like that with Arthur ever again. Mary would never allow it and Arthur was weirdly obsessed with treating him like a proper O.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was fun to imagine. Being lost in a snowstorm with him and Arthur having to press close to him for warmth. He tried his luck and began to kiss the older man’s neck. Arthur moaned out his name. Not Marston- John. Delighted John rolled his hips into the other man’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur please.” He begged. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur moved his hands under John’s legs flipping him onto his back. He cradled his jaw in his hands. John had seen him best a man to death yet they were so gentle on him. He nuzzled into them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John. Look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John did. Arthur had such a handsome face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moaned and moved his legs so they were on either side of the alpha’s hips. “I want you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Johnny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John knew exactly what he wanted. He reached for Arthur’s trousers and started on the buttons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah damn it!” Arthur grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Next thing John knew he was being lifted into the air. Why was this part of his fantasy?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next thing John knew he was being dropped on his ass. The pain in his tailbone jolted him into reality. Arthur stood over looming between Dutch’s tent flaps. His chest was heaving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, fuck he’d actually come onto Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s heating.” Arthur gritted out before tying the flaps back in place. “I’ll make sure the others mind their manors if y’all keep him in here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John bent his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. He glanced up to see concerned faces on his parental figures. He’d never live this down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span> John spent the next two days sweating and impossibly aroused. He felt like he springs between his legs, both the water and metal kind. He’d been told he’d be deliriously horny, but everyone had failed to mention how empty he felt and how bad the cramps hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hosea, Susan, and Annabell all tried their best to help him out. They brought him water and food, but he couldn’t force himself to eat anything. All he really wanted was Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the third morning, John awoke to the sounds of horses riding into camp. Anabelle and Hosea left the tent to intercept him. John pulled the blankets over his head and pretended he was dead. It was better than the humiliation that Dutch and the others now knew what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Grimshaw handed him the under layers he’d stripped of on the previous days and the day outfit he’d been bought. “The snow is passable enough to get to town. We’re gonna take you back to get you a bath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to see, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Grimshaw clicked her teeth. “I’m not letting you near any of the unmated alphas until we get you cleaned up. Dutch and Bessie’ll escort us into town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Begrudgingly John dressed. He knew better than to cross Miss Grimshaw. A few minutes later Dutch was at the edge of the tent flap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John are you decent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t be decent until we get the stench off of him.” Miss Grimshaw called out fastening the clasps on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch pushed the flap aside and stepped in. “I hear Mr. Marston is all grown up. Congratulations, son.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “To the joy of no one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, I wouldn’t say that. Mr. Sharp was asking about you this morning and invited us to dinner tomorrow night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John groaned. “Do I have to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ Having a banker who is smitten with you might be a good thing. Think of all the secrets he’ll tell you cause he underestimated you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John supposed it was a solid plan. But he hadn’t a clue how to get a man like that to tell him anything. Well, not without a weapon at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll try,'' John whispered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch patted him on his shoulder. “That’s my boy! Don’t worry Hosea and Anabelle will walk you through it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was still cold as fuck as they moved they rode into town on the wagon. John would have preferred to ride his horse, but Dutch had gone into some spiel about appearances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had conceded to let John wear his winter coat despite it not being designed for an omega. It had been Arthur’s when he was younger but was given to John when Arthur’s broad shoulders could no longer fit into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew Arthur only gave it to him because it no longer fit but it still meant a lot to him. Like Arthur actually gave a shit about his well-being. It brought him comfort when Arthur was off with Mary or being particularly ornery. For now, it would have to comfort him until he could apologize to Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Town was unbelievably boring and crowded. John hated how many people there were running about. It was to his relief when they arrived back at camp, clean and with another load of supplies. John looked around but couldn’t see either of Arthur’s horses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anabelle was lounging on a rug in Dutch’s tent reading. “Have you seen Arthur?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Sorry, hun. He rode out this morning not long after you left. He said something about going hunting. Lord knows we need it too. He’ll be gone for a few days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s face must have said what he was thinking. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions and Anabelle was a damn bloodhound about them anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She patted the rug next to her. “You’re both eat up with guilt about the whole thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does Arthur have to be guilty of?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh honey, you know him as well as I do, probably better. When have you not seen that man beating himself up about something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair,” John mumbled and sat down next to her. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anabelle smiled and shook her head. “Only if you forgive him back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “How can I when I don’t even know what he thinks he’s done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She placed a kiss on his hair. “Someday he might tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John huffed. “He doesn’t tell me a damn thing he actually thinks, he just writes it down in his damn journal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He worries over you, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. Did he tell you what happened with Mr. Townsend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit. I never liked him anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of us really did. Townsend was obsessing over something you’d said to him a few days prior. It’s none of my business if it was true but you told him you’d been with an alpha before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t- I just told him that to get him to stop calling me ‘delicate rosebud’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anabelle sighed. “I can’t say I’m not relieved. Anyone that would- with an unpresented- well they deserve what’s coming to ‘em. But he found out about your hunting trips with Arthur and became convinced it was Arthur that had- well- everyone knows you fancy him too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John could feel his face heat up. “That night he got drunk and kept askin’ Arthur what you were like in bed and if he’d had to force you down. Things like that. I’m amazed Arthur didn’t punch or shot him sooner. I think the idea that you’d be anything other than brotherly towards him was completely shocking to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad he thinks it's so unlikely,” John muttered into Anabelle’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When that man said he’d find out for himself. I ...well, Arthur kinda went feral.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur said he stabbed him in the balls with a knife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He would tell you that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way she said it told John it was far worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are ya gonna tell me or is this another one of those, when you’re older things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No honey, you’ve heated. In the eyes of society, you’re an adult now. Alpha’s with intentions of courting you had better be aware of Arthur and how far he’ll go for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He beat him to death, didn’t he. Arthur told me it was sepsis but-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ultimately it was sepsis but Arthur beat him until he was damn near unconscious if he’d just knocked ‘Em out that idiot would probably still be alive.” She shook her head. “We all just sat there and let him do it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you said he had it coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Townsend was barely conscious but he kept antagonizing Arthur.” She paused. “He insinuated that he knew Arthur wasn’t the alpha that had you because it was him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John snorted. “I would have gutted him if he tried. I’m not the kind to just lay there-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John cut himself short. “Sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anabelle reached for his hand. “Honey, it’s fine, I know you’d go down fighting. I raised you better. I never want you to go through that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John leaned his head against her shoulder. “What did Arthur do to Townsend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said you’d cried for Arthur to help you. That’s what broke him I think. Arthur gelded him and cut off his manhood. I went to check on you then. The way Townsend was screaming I was sure you’d come out of your tent no matter how poor you felt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I remember that you told me there was a rabid animal in camp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked. “There was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess that’s why Arthur disappeared for a few days. He always does when something upsets him.” He paused. “How long do you think he’ll be gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A few days, Pearson asked him to go hunting. But I’m sure he’ll be back before Dutch decides to scam your young banker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hadn’t he already decided to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, won’t if you take a shine to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already told him that as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was bored out of his fucking mind. He was barely pretending to fake interest in what Evan was saying. Hosea had sought to it that John was well-read but the books Evan was interested in were boring, to say the least. There were only so many praised Hawthorn, Dickens, and Tolstoy could be given.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh forgive me I suppose those aren’t stories which interest you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John continued to look at the fire to keep his expression from showing. “They are not the things I generally enjoy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose you enjoy works such as those of Ms. Austen and the Brontë sisters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shook his head. “No, A-my mother enjoys them. But I prefer adventure stories.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s eyebrows rose as John continued. “I like Moby Dick and Tom Sawyer. And anything by Dumas. Arthur’s bought me several of his books.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father’s gunslinger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think Gunslingers were particularly into literature. Tom Sawyer I can see but others not so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think Arthur liked it very much, mostly he reads pamphlets on making things or boring poetry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Poetry? Mr. Marston, if I wasn’t raised better I’d call you a lair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shrugged. “I swear he has some of Thoreau’s memorized. You can ask him the next time you see him in town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather spend time with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looked down at his hands in his lap. He whispered a confused “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have the slightest interest in common with this man. Why did he want to continue spending time with him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was it Hosea had said, keep alpha’s talking and listen to them like they are the most interesting person in the world. Make them feel grandiose and you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’ve memorized lots of poems, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved closer. “Not as many as one might think with my time in college. But mostly I studied finances and law. But I would be happy to learn what sort of poems you like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shifted. “I’m told it isn’t proper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To know poems?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I also like Penny Dreadful novels and as for poems, I like Poe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiled. “I’m sure your father just doesn’t want you worrying about such dark murders and disease.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow I don’t think it would bother him.” John wasn’t going to mention he’d killed two men before the age of fifteen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t long after that they were called to dinner by the maid. John was relieved, to say the least at least with Dutch and the other Mr. Sharp he wouldn’t have to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to Hosea, John was perfect for posing as a society omega. Since he didn’t like to talk much and Society omegas were conditioned to be reserved and let the alpha’s do all the talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This surprised John as Mary seemed to do most of the talking between her and Arthur. It gave him a semblance of satisfaction knowing he was naturally better at some aspect of omegahood over her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped Arthur would be back in camp when they returned for the evening. When Dutch finally decided that it was late and they needed to leave, John tried to pretend he didn’t want to leave yet. Dutch knew better and seemed pleased by his performance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To John’s continued surprise, Evan kissed his hand when they left. The ride back was cold and the winds were frigid, but Dutch expressed how proud he was of him. That always made him feel a bit better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, the most exciting event of the night was when they pulled up to camp and John heard a gruff voice call out. “The Princess has returned to us peasants. How kind of him grace us with his presence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John rolled his eyes at Arthur before turning his head and smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur, I take it your trip was successful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure was. Caught some mean bastard alive and then snagged a deer for the camp pot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dutch jumped down from the wagon and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s my boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How was dinner with your Beau?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my Beau, Arthur. It was dull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur offered his hand to him. “You’re a high society omega now; we can’t expect you to do anything for yourself can we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John gathered the loose fabric of his skirt and jumped to the ground. Arthur smirked at him as Miss Grimshaw screeched her disapproval across the camp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John Marston! if you rip those clothes I’m gonna skin your hide!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She came hurrying over; a few locks of hair fell into her face. Arthur backed away grinning with his hands on his gun belt. He knew exactly what he’d been doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shot him a nasty look just before his ear was seized. Miss Grimshaw dragged him towards his tent. “Let’s get you out of those before you ruin them, you crazy boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Grimshaw was folding John’s fancy clothes as John brushed out his braid. He preferred it down but he was told that it was ‘respectable’ to wear it up now that he was heating. The last thing he or the gang cared about was ‘respectable’. So around the camp, he didn’t think it would cause a stir if it was down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a rasp against the wood of the tent frame. “Are you decent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Grimshaw glanced at John. “You can come in, Mr. Morgan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pulled the tent flap back and entered. The rush of cold air should have made the tent freezing. But Arthur Morgan removed his hat to talk to John, well, that made him flush hot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John couldn’t help but stare as he pushed his hand through his hair to straighten it. “Miss Grimshaw. Can I talk to John- alone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older omega gave him a look before placing the freshly folded clothes into John’s trunk. “Mr. Marston?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looked to his reflection and nodded. How many times had he dreamt of having Arthur alone in his tent? He concentrated on getting out the last few tangles of braids as Miss Grimshaw left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment both men remained silent. The other gang members' indistinguishable conversation could be heard faintly over the sound of the canvas ruffling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John spared a glance to Arthur. His neck craned awkwardly to keep his head from hitting the eaves beam of the tent. The alpha looked just as nervous as John did. John’s conversation with Anabelle came back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” John said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked up so quickly he bumped his head. “What on earth are you sorry for? I came in here to apologize to you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I’m sorry for coming onto you in the lean-to, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was certain he could have kissed the man and he’d be less shocked. Another devoid of sentences spell stretched out between them. Arthur made his typical sighs and hmms of brooding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It ain’t your fault Marston. I came in here to apologize for that night too. An omega shouldn’t ...well they shouldn’t ever feel like they’re at the mercy of an Alpha.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>opening his Satchel Arthur moved closer. John always felt like he was at Arthur’s mercy and didn't mind the older man holding him down. Actually, he’d say he enjoyed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Arthur pulled something from his satchel and set it onto the barrel John used as a dressing table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With only the kerosene lamp for light, it took him a second to recognize the item as an antler handle and a leather sheath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If any Alpha gets you down in a way you don’t like you kick ‘em and shove that into their belly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pulled the knife from its sheath. “Arthur I already have a knife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he tapped on the straps on the side. “But this one can be hidden in your boot or strapped to your thigh. That way when your playin’ Debutant you still got something on ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look Arthur had in his eyes was still one of guilt, but he nodded to John before turning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John bolted to his feet knocking his stool backward. “Annabelle told me what really happened with Townsend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stopped in his tracks. “Of course she did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly he turned back around. Arthur sighed. “Well, now ya know what an animal I am. I didn’t get the knife for you to use on me, but if it keeps you from being scared of me-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t been scared of you a day in my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur's eyebrows rose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, since I was thirteen. But I lied to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lied?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Townsend he kept askin’ me when I was gonna get a real Alpha to have me. I told him I already had so I knew he wasn’t one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John couldn’t tell if Arthur was relieved or furious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a lie cause I ain’t never been with an Alpha willing or unwilling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you saying I killed him in cold blood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, so stop beating yourself up about it. You know it was only a matter of time before he tried too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John picked up his new knife. “And you know I ain’t a society omega, so next time let me castrate the perverted bastards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur smirked. “I don’t know you would have had the stomach for shoving a man’s penis in his own asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, she didn’t tell you that part did she?” Arthur looked like he was about to start feeling guilty again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Townsend was a perverse bastard who got what was coming to him. But you, Mr. Morgan, are a knight in shining armor disguised as a vicious bastard.” John grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still a feral raccoon.” Arthur turned and walked out the tent flaps. “Goodnight, Princess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John fell into bed that night staring at his new knife with glee.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>https://www.albanyinstitute.org/details/items/brown-and-plaid-day-ensemble.html<br/>The back of this dress is what inspired John's outfit at the end.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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